Encore (The Wake Up Dead Man Remix)
by black.k.kat
Summary: Kurosaki Ichigo is dead. Enter Kei, youngest (adopted) son of the Shiba clan, and newly appointed lieutenant of the Sixth Division. (Or: Damn it all, but Ichigo's afterlife is not going the way he planned. Freaking Kukaku.)
1. Chapter 1

**Rating: **T-ish (?)

**Warnings: **Blatantly, unashamedly AU, ignoring canon. Also for Kukaku's mouth and Ichigo's temper.

**Word Count: **~6400

**Pairings: **None.

**Summary: **Kurosaki Ichigo is dead. Enter Kei, youngest (adopted) son of the Shiba clan, and newly promoted lieutenant of the Sixth Division. (Or: Damn it all, but Ichigo's afterlife is not going the way he planned. Freaking _Kukaku.)_

**Disclaimer: **I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.

**Notes: **Once upon a time, there was a foolish fanfiction writer named Kat (aka black_k_kat, aka Drown Me In Blue), who wrote a one-shot called _Range_. Then Kat got distracted finishing up the remaining 40-odd prompts on the list, and _then_ she lost interest in Bleach almost completely. _Range_'s universe ended up languishing in Kat's head and consigned to eternal darkness. The end.

Except that now Kat is sheepishly slinking her way back into Bleach after _numerous _rants to several (enablers) friends about how she was out for good and never coming back, no way, no how. Yeah. So! Aren't you impressed with her moral fiber?

**Tl;dr**: Here's that expansion/continuation of _Range_ and _Laugh_ that I swore with such venom I'd never write. I reread both and decided that I _hated_ parts of the plot, so it's an AU to an AU. I'm sorry I'm not sorry? Or something like that.

* * *

_**Encore **_

_**(The Wake Up Dead Man Remix)**_

He doesn't even feel the impact. There's a shriek of metal-on-metal, a scream, a car suddenly jumping the curb in front of him.

Then there's only darkness.

* * *

_Blue._

_The sky is still blue._

Ichigo blinks, and wonders why that surprises him. Surely, a blue sky exists everywhere, even—

Even _here_.

Which isnot where he had been before.

It's somewhere different.

Carefully, Ichigo sits up and takes in the sight of a familiar field, with trees in the distance. He's been here once, right after the first trip to Soul Society, when Inoue had come to tell him that Rukia was missing, and he had known where to look. The house that's just as odd as he remembers still stands in the distance—and, squatting a few feet from him in the grass, is a familiar face that he hasn't seen since that day.

Shiba Kukaku stares at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on her face. Ichigo stares back, wondering why the fireworks expert—who he remembers as being loud, violent, and having a strong enough left hook to put Yammy to shame—looks almost… unsettled. He doesn't say anything, though, keeping his peace as she surveys him. For some reason, he's tired, more than he's ever been, and can't help but suspect that being in Soul Society like this—when he had been in his human form, without using a _Senkaimon_, and knowing without a doubt that the car accident had killed him—is the cause.

And then Kukaku sighs and straightens, rising to her feet and offering him a hand up. "From the lack of company I take it this isn't another one of Yoruichi's harebrained schemes. Did something happen?"

Ichigo hesitates for a moment before accepting the proffered hand. "I…died." It feels odd to say it out loud, but he knows it's true. Unlike what the majority of the Gotei 13 seems to think, he isn't stupid. He can certainly be reckless sometimes, when someone he cares about is in danger, but he isn't dumb. Drawing connections is simple enough. The only surprise is that now, here, he feels the stirrings of power around him that he's missed for so long, and the comforting weight of Zangetsu on his back. Dying, it seems, had been enough to return his powers. Even the Hollow is back, simmering in his mind just below the surface. And for the life—or death—of him, Ichigo can't bring himself to find it anything but comforting.

Kukaku sighs again, pulling him to his feet, and nods. "I thought it was something like that." Then she pauses again and scrutinizes his face for a moment, something in her expression turning wistful. "You…really do look like him."

Ichigo blinks at that, not understanding, and shoots her a look. He had noticed a similar reaction in others, particularly Ukitake and Byakuya, when he faced them, but he's never pressed them for an answer. But Kukaku notices, and gives him a small, weary smile. "My older brother, Kaien. The one the Kuchiki girl killed."

There's no malice in her voice, no bitterness, and Ichigo wonders at how strong she is to push all of that aside. He had never managed it, and even now, he blames himself for his mother's death.

Maybe someday, he thinks a touch ironically, he can be as strong as her.

"Is there a relation?" he asks after a second, half dryly and half curiously. His father's death at Aizen's hand meant that the old man had never had gotten around to explaining his connection to Soul Society, so for all Ichigo knows, Kukaku could be his aunt. He just barely holds back a shudder. As if there aren't enough violent women around him already.

Seeming to guess his thoughts, Kukaku grins at him, squeezing his hand just a little tighter than she needs to. "Heh. That scares you, little boy? Shouldn't, though. We Shibas are a good bunch—mostly. And widespread! Or we used to be." She turns, not letting go of his hand, and drags him back towards her crazy house. "You might be a cousin, for all I know. Never did keep a good enough track of the branch families, while they existed. Oh, well." Throwing open the door, she yanks him down the stairs, calling, "Oi, Ganju! We've got a guest!"

Her brother leans around a door, and his eyes widened at the sight of Ichigo there, dressed not in shinigami robes, but a simple autumn-brown yukata, Zangetsu across his back. He takes one step forward, looking confused. "Kurosaki? What are you…?" Then he pauses, frowns, and opens his mouth again—

—Only to be cut off by his sister's foot slamming into his face.

Despite himself, Ichigo winces. Yeah, he can see the family resemblance there, if she and his father are related.

"Move it, dumbass!" Kukaku bellows, hauling Ichigo past the sprawled form of her sibling and into the room he'd just left. "He's a guest, and he just died! He needs comforting! Now get your ass to the kitchen and make some food! I'm hungry!" With that, she slides the shoji door shut, tosses Ichigo in front of the table, and drops on the other side to face him. Planting her left arm on the table, she glares at him and demands, "Well? What happened? If you're gonna cry, do it now, while I'm feeling charitable!"

Pushing himself upright, Ichigo casts her a half-wary, half-bemused look, and then settles himself correctly. "Cry? What the h—why would I cry?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "You just died."

He raises one in return, wondering what it is she wants him to say. "I know. I'm not an idiot. But it's not like everything ended, right? I'm here. My family's already here, too. And…"

And what? He suddenly can't think of anything. Isn't he supposed to be fighting someone? Rescuing someone? Doing _something_? But instead of a driving urge to _move_, he feels relaxed. Peaceful. At ease, even, without the fate of Soul Society and the world of the living riding on his back, without the grief that's been tearing at him for over two years now. And, as much as he loves combat, and fighting, he doesn't want to go back to that pressure. Even with his powers back, he doesn't want to immediately plunge back into conflict. And somehow, he can guess that conflict is what would occur, if he walked up to the gates of the Seireitei and informed them that he was no longer a resident of the living world.

He has to bite back a groan, because it's just occurring to him that it had not been the insane, power-obsessed, would-be _god _who had taken him out. It had been a _car_. Renji is going to laugh his ass off.

Yet another reason not to immediately present himself in Seireitei.

Kukaku, with a perceptiveness that belies her usual loud personality, seems to guess what he's thinking again. She leans over and flicks him on the forehead, then brings her fist down hard on the top of his head. While he tries to clear the ringing from his ears, she snorts and comments, "You know, there's nothing holding you back now, boy. You're dead. That means no more responsibilities. Sure, you have the power to be a shinigami, and you want to protect people—"

Ichigo doesn't question how, again, she knows exactly what he's thinking. It's more than likely he'll regret knowing, should he ask.

"—but you don't have to march right up the Gotei 13 and let them take you in. You're different than you were before the war; they probably wouldn't even know what to do with you. So why don't you stay here for a bit? Ground yourself, think about your options? I'll even help you get that pig-sticker down to a normal sealed-size." She nods towards Zangetsu, which is settled awkwardly across Ichigo's shoulders and nearly digging into the bamboo floor. "You don't have to be yourself, either, if you don't want to. There are enough bastard sons floating around, and you look enough like a Shiba that I can claim you as a cousin and adopt you into the family. Might make for a nice change of pace, huh?"

Ichigo looks at her in surprise for a second, then shifts his gaze past her left shoulder as he considers. Go to Seireitei, and back to being a hero of a war he had never wanted to fight? Or stay here amidst the peaceful insanity that is the Shiba house, as a Shiba himself, and take his time learning something, not for the sake of saving the world, but for _himself_?

It isn't much of a choice, really.

"Thank you," he tells Kukaku with a quick bow. "I'd be honored."

And Kukaku smiles, satisfied, and bellows at Ganju to hurry up with the food.

* * *

Ichigo quickly comes to the realization that training with Kukaku is akin to throwing oneself headfirst at a jet engine and hoping to come out on the other side with the ability to fly.

Not that it isn't effective—within the first two weeks of lessons, he's able to suppress and contain his reiatsu enough to seal Zangetsu into a normal _shikai_ state (though it fails if he loses his temper), and to hide a few feet from a shinigami patrol without being detected (so long as he's careful and almost completely focused on hiding his power, which is inconvenient, as it leaves him struggling in a real fight).

It is even, at times, enjoyable. Ichigo has always been the older brother in his family, and Kukaku is like the older sister he's never had, gruffly affectionate, tauntingly supportive, and with a core—somewhere deep, deep, _deep_ inside—of kindness and caring that's unlike anything he's experienced before. She pushes him hard, harder than even Urahara or old man Zangetsu, but for no other reason than because she can do it and he can survive it. There's no world to save, no friend to rescue, and Ichigo can focus solely on becoming strong for _himself_, instead of someone else.

Ganju, too, quickly becomes like family—although Ichigo is certain he's more the idiot cousin kept locked in the attic than anyone really close. They spar together when Kukaku is busy with whatever it is she really does (another thing Ichigo is certain he'll regret knowing), and as he had when Ichigo was struggling with the spirit orb on his first trip to the Seireitei, the boar-rider often steps in to help Ichigo with some of the finer points of control and reiatsu manipulation. Ganju even helps him master the beginning steps towards _kido_, much more quickly than Kukaku had expected.

For the first time in a very long while, Ichigo is learning, and training, and advancing just because he can, and he can't remember being so content at any time since his mother's death. He pushes aside everything that he had been before—all the anger, all the surliness, all thoughts of weakness and strength and power and death—and Shiba Kei becomes the newly accepted youngest son of the Shiba Clan. And it's a change that he welcomes, shedding his old being like a set of worn clothes, and donning a new personal to go with his new life. Kei—the name chosen by Kukaku, who had wistfully remarked that it was what Kaien had been planning to name his son, and left Ichigo with the distinct feeling that he had been played—is polite, and respectful, and likes to play jokes. He smiles and laughs, and does not worry about worlds or gods or anything but surviving his sister's training.

And Ichigo is, for the first time in years, really, truly happy.

* * *

It's seven months to the day since he first came to live with them when Kukaku storms through the doorway of the dojo, interrupting Ichigo and Ganju's sparring session. They both turn to look at her—

—Only to be smacked in the head with the bottle and scrub brush, respectively, that she hurls at them.

This is hardly the first time that kind of thing has happened. Indeed, it's almost a daily occurrence, so Ichigo grabs the bottled before it can hit the floor and Ganju peels the brush off his face, and they only grumble a little bit as they glare at her with all the wounded male pride they can muster.

Kukaku just smirks at them—and, specifically, at Ichigo. "There ya go, carrot-top! One dousing with that and your hair will look all-natural again! You'll fit right in with the rest of us!"

Ichigo transfers his glare from her to the bottle of black hair dye he holds, and then scowls at her even more deeply.

"What the hell! Why the hell would I want to dye my hair?"

The woman looks supremely unimpressed. "'Cause you're going to enroll in the Spiritual Arts Academy. I've got nothing left to teach you, since you've got all the basics down, and the teachers at the school can help you go further than I ever could. I'm not a shinigami, halfwit! And with your hair dyed, you'll look just like Kaien. No one will doubt you're a Shiba. I'll get the paperwork out of the way, and you'll be free to go through the Academy just like every other shinigami admitted to the Gotei 13. No special favors, no war hero, just you." She grins. "So get dyeing."

It would take a much stronger—or less sane—man to argue with Shiba Kukaku. So, with the obligatory grumbling and cursing, Ichigo gets dyeing, and realizes about halfway through that the whole idea doesn't really sound so bad.

* * *

"You've got your sword?"

"Yes, nee-san."

"And your uniforms?"

"Yes, nee-san."

"And your _kido_ books?"

"Yes, nee-san."

"And enough yukatas? I can always bring you more if—"

"_Yes_, nee-san."

The one armed woman smacks the dark-haired boy who stands with her in the head. "Shut up, brat! If this is what I get for worrying, I'll make sure not to in the future!"

Several of the families standing with them before the Academy gates stifle snorts. Ichigo narrows his eyes at the vicious female monster posing as his sister and rubs the back of his much-abused head. She's been "worrying," as she calls it—though, in truth, it's far closer to nagging—ever since they left the house that morning. Ichigo still isn't certain why he couldn't just go alone—after all, he isn't a _kid_, and he's already passed the entrance exam with ease. But Kukaku had said that family seeing him off was expected, especially since he was coming from a noble house—even if it is fallen, which she never seems to give a damn about.

Seeing the near-scowl that crosses his face, Kukaku leans in with frightening good cheer, her grin one hair shy of terrifying. "Come on, _Kei-chan_, smile! You'll do the Shiba Clan proud, won't you? Hmm? _Kei-chan_?"

Under the circumstances, Ichigo feels that it is quite acceptable to stage a tactical retreat. Taking several steps away from the madwoman to whom he's claiming blood ties—and oh, how he's starting to wish that he had just enrolled as a nameless spirit from Rukongai—he moves safely out of reach. That had been Kukaku's way of subtly reminding him _not to scowl _in order to keep from being recognized, which is something they've been working on for weeks now—mostly her leaping on him whenever he lets his expression slip into something Ichigo would have worn, instead of what Kei would wear, and stretching his cheeks or doing some equally demeaning and emasculating thing until he can force a neutral expression.

He's become nearly as good at neutral as Byakuya, he suspects—though with Kukaku's form of motivation, he expects that anyone would.

"Damn it, you crazy woman! Don't call me that!" he snaps, though he does rearrange his face into something that doesn't resemble a glower quite so much.

Kukaku just grins at him, as she often does. "Oh, the little one's all grown up, eh? Well, _Kei_, I hope you're ready to leave the nest and all that. Got any last words before I push you out and let you fly?"

"More like push me out and drop a stone around my neck," Ichigo mutters, but straightens his shoulders and offers her a brief, challenging smile. "Why bother? You'll be back in a year to see me graduate anyway, and I'll come visit once in a while, to make sure you haven't drowned Ganju in the bath."

She waves her hand at that, wrinkling her nose. "Hell no! It'd be too smelly." Then her expression softens, and she reaches out and drags Ichigo into a gruff, one-armed hug. "Take care, _otouto_," she murmurs in his ear. "Even if you aren't a Shiba, you're still my little brother. Make us proud, got that?" Releasing him, she takes a step back, then waves and turns away. "And make sure you come back home once in a while! You're already a twig, and cafeteria food won't help! We'll have to stuff you every chance we get, so you don't blow away in the wind!"

Ichigo rolls his eyes at her retreating back, but it's fond. Kukaku may just be _posing_ as his sibling, but in reality, she's his sister in every way that matters. And now he has three sisters to look out for, even if the newest one would kick his ass for thinking that she needs "looking after."

* * *

It feels good, feels _right_ to don the shinigami black once more, after a year and some-odd weeks in a student's white and blue. Ichigo spends a long moment staring into the mirror in his dormitory room, wondering at the changes. He's gotten used to seeing black hair in place of orange, a calm expression where a scowl used to be, but sometimes it still jars him to remember that he's not Kurosaki Ichigo anymore, not in the ways that count. He's Shiba Kei, branch member adopted into the main Shiba family by virtue of Kukaku's kindness to an orphaned bastard child.

Ichigo never used to lie, even to himself. Now the lies have become his entire life, quite literally.

He slings Zangetsu across his back, a normal long sword rather than a huge cleaver—if nothing else, this whole charade has taught him the control he never managed while he was alive—because old habits die hard, and he's more comfortable with the blade there than in the more normal position at his side. Enough shinigami wear their zanpakuto the same way that it shouldn't raise too many eyebrows, even in a formal situation like this.

Which, of course, brings his thoughts right back to what he's been trying to avoid thinking about. This is going to be a circus, regardless of the assurances he's gotten from his instructors and—

"You like you're about face your execution, Kei. Lighten up, or the audience might get the wrong impression."

Kuchiki Eiji, part-time therapist and full-time Jiminy Cricket. Of course.

Ichigo bites back the sharp comment he wants to make and instead growls, "I don't understand why they have to have the captains choose their recruits _right then_ in front of a damned _crowd_. It's—"

"An acknowledgement of the skills and capabilities of the new graduates to have captains present their bids for service before the graduation audience, even before the entrance test for the Gotei 13 proper. Also for the most part a _complete_ _formality_, because such decisions are generally made between the captain and the recruit well ahead of time, and only the very lowest-ranking students—which _you are not, Mr. Prodigy_—leave it up to chance. Now calm down before _I _start getting nervous by proxy, okay?" The young noble rolls over on his futon to give Ichigo a long, assessing stare that reminds Ichigo just who his cousin is, Eiji's usual demeanor aside.

Nevertheless, Ichigo—never one to be cowed, and _certainly_ not after living with Shiba Kukaku for more than two years—grouches softly, "Why? It's not like you're going to be doing anything except _sitting_ there."

Eiji gives him a cheeky grin. "Yeah, because I'm smart and graduating normally, next winter, with a large class. You're the supernaturally talented and powerful idiot who had to go and beat even your older brother's record. Of _course _people are going to be interested, Kei. What did you think would happen?"

_Not this_, Ichigo wants to say, but he keeps it to himself and carefully pulls his black hair back into a tail. He's kept it long, if only to keep his instructors from having a heart attack when he walks into their classes looking exactly like Shiba Kaien.

Clever fingers steal the ribbon before he can attempt to tie it up, and Eiji mutters, "Oh, give it here, you're hopeless."

After a year and change of dealing with Eiji's hovering, Ichigo knows this fight is already a lost cause, so he surrenders gracefully and lets Eiji fiddle. As he does, the young noble asks carefully, "You accepted Byakuya-_sama_'s offer, didn't you? Lieutenant of the Sixth?"

Ah, yes. That crowning moment of stupidity. Ichigo fights back a grimace and makes a sound that's vaguely affirmative. Byakuya is probably the only person in the Gotei 13 who knows both who Ichigo is and who he was. Kukaku and Ganju know, by virtue of finding him when he first arrived after his death and then providing him with a cover story, but the Sixth's captain _guessed_.

And if Byakuya, who never actually knew Ichigo all that well except as an opponent, was able to see through his façade as Shiba Kei with a glance, Ichigo doesn't even want to contemplate what will happen with people like Rukia, Renji, and his damned _father_.

A hand closing over his shoulder brings his attention back to the boy behind him, and Ichigo glances up to meet his gaze in the mirror. Eiji's eyes are a green-grey, rather than Byakuya's steel-grey, but there's a resolve and a certainty in them that makes their relation all the more obvious.

"Kei?" Eiji asks, and it's soft, but there's a world's worth of meaning in that single word.

It's a single, lonely syllable, a name that Ichigo was never born to wear, but a name he's chosen nevertheless. To Ichigo, it's a symbol of the choice he made in that green field with Kukaku standing over him. He'd turned his back on the past, left it behind in favor of an unknown future without the taint of grief and failure that had dragged Kurosaki Ichigo down for so long before his death. Shiba Kei was born in that moment, even though he remained nameless for several months afterwards. It's with Kei's soul, Kei's eyes that Ichigo looks at himself in the pane of silvered glass.

It's Shiba Kei who meets Eiji's gaze and, with a resolve forged from grief and pain and loss, tempered with the happiness of this new life as a new man, it's Shiba Kei who says "Yes. I accepted."

And really, that's all there is to say.

* * *

Renji was a lieutenant for a long time, and he knows that each of the eleven other sub-commanders has their own style of fighting. Kira holds back and lets the enemy hang themselves. Matsumoto pouts and flounces and then goes in for the kill while her opponent is distracted. Hisagi bides his time, using psychological attacks just as much as his ruthless physical ones. Yachiru, Omeada, Sasakibe, Nanao—they've all got their own way of fighting and winning.

But with all of them, every single one, he's at least seen their shikai. Even Hisagi, who hates to use his, still brings it out sometimes in practice or in battle. Only the newest lieutenant, one Shiba Kei, who so easily took Renji's former position in the Sixth, has never even _drawn his damned sword_.

It's taken this long for Renji to even get the man to agree to a spar, and that was by sheer chance alone—Renji managed to corner Shiba while Captain Kuchiki was within hearing distance, and Byakuya had encouraged his new lieutenant to try his hand against his old one. Renji had felt fairly secure in his ability to wipe the training ground with Shiba's face, given that Shiba was a green graduate and only a lieutenant, whereas Renji was the new captain of the Ninth.

Technically, it's his own fault for forgetting that Shiba Kei managed to graduate the Academy in a year and five weeks, breaking his older brother's record in the process. And granted, Shiba went from Academy student straight to lieutenant without a single step in between, handpicked by Kuchiki Byakuya himself for his abilities. Still, Renji had expected to face an inexperienced boy without many actual combat skills and an excess of book learning.

What he's gotten is something quite different.

The arena is filled with choking red smoke, thick and obscuring, and although the day's brisk breeze is already dispersing it, it's enough to throw Renji off. He's the type to dive right in to a fight, to strike the first blow and keep on hitting before his opponent can do more than block, but with this, he's been effectively stymied. It's incredibly difficult to hit what he can't see, and he's not good enough at kido to disperse the smoke without entirely diverting his attention from his opponent.

Then the soft scuff of a footstep, nearly inaudible, comes from behind him, and a low, calm voice intones, "_Carriage of thunder. Bridge of a spinning wheel. With light, divide into six. Bakudo 61: Rikujōkōrō_."

Long experience in dueling Rukia, who's absolutely infatuated with kido in all its forms, is the only thing that lets Renji avoid the bolts of golden light. He whirls to the other side of the ring, as fast as he's capable of moving, and sends Zabimaru streaking towards the source of the spell. It's instinct to expect the clash of metal on metal, because that's how fights generally go with kido-focused opponents—opening kido, physical attack, hand to hand combat until someone gains an edge.

Instead, that same calm voice commands, "_Bakudo 39: Enkosen._" There's an arc of bright reiatsu from the midst of the fading smoke, and Zabimaru rebounds with a clang.

Renji's beginning to understand just why Shiba went from graduate right to lieutenant. Calling up a kido is mental as much as it's physical; that's one of the reasons preforming it without an incantation takes more strength and skill. The chant gives time for the mind to build up the necessary reiatsu, to prepare. It makes consecutive kido attacks far harder, as the user has to mentally switch tracks and start all over again.

To be able to fire off two kido in the upper range, even if they are of the same type, one after another—and one without an incantation—means that Shiba Kei has a rather frightening grasp of the subject.

A sudden breeze sweeps away the last of the smoke even as Shiba's barrier fades. He's still entirely at ease, his expression in the same politely attentive lines that it has been since Renji met him, and he hasn't so much as reached for the zanpakuto strapped across his back yet. Renji grits his teeth and sets his feet. He's a captain now; no way in hell is he going to let a rookie lieutenant—his _replacement_ rookie lieutenant—beat him.

A flicker of shunpo, too fast to track, and Shiba is gone. But Renji's fought Kurosaki Ichigo in his bankai, knows what to expect when an opponent's faster, and spins halfway to catch a sandaled foot against Zabimaru's flat side. Shiba uses the zanpakuto like a springboard, even as Renji tries to knock him off balance, and tumbles neatly over in the air to land in a crouch. He's up again in a second, foot lashing out, and Renji can see the barest hint of the basic academy _hoho_ forms within each movement, but Shiba has streamlined them, tweaked them, turned them into something far closer to Shihoin Yoruichi's deadly style. They're not at quite that level yet, but there's potential.

_Shiba_ has potential, in just about everything Renji's seen him do so far, and it really fucking _grates_. Shiba's the perfect lieutenant, quiet and calm and forever composed, staying two steps behind his captain at all times, paperwork done and squads seen to and tea prepared, and it makes Renji feel like the brash, coarse Rukongai brat he's tried so hard to leave behind.

_Damn it_, Renji snarls to himself, just barely blocking a kick to the knee because Shiba's just _too damned fast_ for him to hit. _Like fighting freaking Ichigo all over again_.

Except that Ichigo is gone, dead and lost somewhere in the vastness of Soul Society, very likely without any of his memories, and the last spar Renji had with him before the war ended was the last spar _anyone_ ever had with him. And now some noble brat comes swaggering in, just as fast as Seireitei's vanished hero, better at kido and entirely subservient where Ichigo never was, and Renji can't figure out whether he's more outraged for himself and his former position or for his lost friend.

He grits his teeth, turns as Shiba lands again, and lets Zabimaru strike. The force behind it is very close to deadly, hardly something to be used in a friendly spar, but Shiba dodges it nevertheless. He ducks the second strike, leaps over the third, and then darts is as Zabimaru withdraws, taking advantage of the opening it affords.

But Renji learned long ago not to leave himself open in such a stupid way, and if Kurosaki Ichigo couldn't manage to hit him like this, there's no possibility of a green recruit managing it. Renji whirls around, Zabimaru flying again, and catches Shiba right across the chest in what would be a killing blow, were this not a practice match. Shiba cries out as he goes down, tumbling through the dust and then smoothly back to his feet, skidding slightly as he comes to a full stop. He stays half-crouched for a moment, breathing hard, and then pushes himself upright once more.

"Match, I believe," he says, entirely unruffled by the loss. Yet another glaring difference from Kurosaki Ichigo. "Thank you, Captain Abarai." With a quick bow, he steps away, then turns and strides back to his waiting captain. Byakuya walks away without waiting for Shiba to catch up, and the lieutenant falls into step behind him. They disappear into the winding streets, silent as ghosts, and leave Renji in the middle of the training ground.

There's a long moment of thoughtful silence from the peanut gallery, and then Kira offers, "He's good, for a new recruit."

Renji gives a non-committal grunt in answer.

"Of course," Hisagi chips in, entirely too amused, "you knew that before you challenged him. All of _Seireitei _knew that before you challenged him. We saw his record. What was this _really_ about?"

"Hmm." Kira hums softly, propping his chin up on his fist where he's seated on top of the wall. "Shiba Kei _does_ look remarkably like—"

"Shiba Kaien, the first to steal Rukia's heart?"

"I was going to say Kurosaki Ichigo, the one to save her life, but I think they both fit here."

"Coincidence?"

"It must be."

"Of course."

Renji glares at the two men. "I hate you both," he mutters petulantly, sliding Zabimaru away, and pretends he can't hear it when Kira and Shuuhei both chuckle.

* * *

It took a very, very long time—and a great many practice sessions with Kukaku—before Kurosaki Ichigo was able to fight as Shiba Kei, and not like Ichigo pretending to be a different person. They're exact opposites on the battlefield, or at least as opposite as Ichigo can make them. Rather than rushing in headlong, sword drawn and massive spiritual power brought to bear, Kei hangs back and uses kido, focuses on conserving strength wherever possible, and tries his best not to engage directly. Few people outside of his swordsmanship classes have ever even seen him draw his sword. And if they did, "Kurotsuki" would be far different from the Zangetsu they recall Ichigo wielding.

Ichigo leans his zanpakuto against the corner of his desk, tracing lightly over the white-wrapped hilt that's all that remains to link this sealed state with the massive cleaver it can become. Zangetsu accepts the nickname well enough, even chose it himself, but it's not _his_ name. Nevertheless, for Ichigo's sake, he's willing to pretend. When Ichigo calls on him for shikai, he's able to choke off enough of his massive reiatsu to leave Zangetsu a long, slim, black nodachi, similar to its bankai form. Even that Ichigo uses sparingly. It's one of the reasons he's forced himself to study kido tirelessly, memorizing spells and chants and theories.

Shiba Kei fights at a distance, or not at all.

There's a stack of personnel reviews that Renji's challenge dragged him away from, and they still need to be looked over, initialed, stamped, and sent on to Byakuya if they're either outstanding or reporting a problem. Ichigo looks at them and strangles a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. Sometimes, he really wonders why he didn't stay some nameless Rukongai spirit for the rest of his afterlife. There sure as hell wouldn't have been as much paperwork.

Then Byakuya steps through the door from the main building into Ichigo's office, sliding the door shut behind him. Ichigo glances up, ready to offer a quick smile as his captain strides past into his own office, but instead, Byakuya pauses beside him.

"Your spar was…enlightening, Lieutenant Shiba," he offers after a moment, coolly, but still more than he's usually inclined to give up. "It is far different than what you were before."

Ichigo gives in and really does sigh, raking a hand through the shoulder-length black hair, just a touch longer than Byakuya's, that he hasn't quite gotten around to putting back in a ponytail after his tumble through the dirt. "Yeah," he says, a little wryly. "That's the whole point of fighting that way."

Byakuya accepts that with a faint incline of his head, grey eyes thoughtful. "You have become well-versed in kido. I had believed you had no talent for it."

That's the problem with being thought of as a rash, hotheaded idiot, Ichigo reflects, and that's wry too. He knows himself, knows how he was even before Shiba Kei came into the picture, but he also knows that a lot of time people blew his character flaws way out of proportion, just because he acted oddly and had weird hair. "No one ever taught me before," is all he says, though. "Rukia had to focus on the most basic stuff, like what a Hollow was, and then Urahara-san and Yoruichi-san both had specific things they were training me in. Learning under Kukaku and then going to the Academy was probably the best thing for me."

There's a long pause, careful and considering, and then Byakuya murmurs, "You have raw talent. It has always been so. Now…perhaps it can be refined."

Without another word, he sweeps into his office and closes the door, signaling that he doesn't wish to be disturbed. But Ichigo is frozen in shock, far too startled to do anything, because that…

That was a compliment, and not even a backhanded one, from Kuchiki Byakuya, the one captain Ichigo always thought would despise him unconditionally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rating: **T-ish (?)

**Warnings: **Faint language (the rating is me being paranoid, I think)

**Word Count: **~4300

**Pairings: **None.

**Summary: **Kurosaki Ichigo is dead. Enter Kei, youngest (adopted) son of the Shiba clan, and newly appointed lieutenant of the Sixth Division. (Or: Damn it all, but Ichigo's afterlife is not going the way he planned. Freaking Kukaku.)

**Disclaimer: **I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.

**Notes: **Long notes at the end are long. Brace yourselves. This chapter is pretty much establishing the AU and setting the scene. This will start picking up a bit in the next chapter. Also, I'll try to keep the length vaguely consistent, but unfortunately I have the attention span of a magpie on crack in a jewelry store, so long chapters take a while to write. Expect glacial updates. That way, anything faster will be a happy surprise. -.-'

* * *

_**Encore **_

_**(The Wake Up Dead Man Remix)**_

_**Chapter Two**_

An accident.

After everything, it's an accident.

It's an _accident_ that he dies.

A day like any other, special only in its peaceful sameness. Yuzu had always insisted that he keep the kitchen well stocked, and—as ever—he can't go against her memory. If he had known, he might have done it that one time, instead of heading for the corner store when he got back from work.

Or maybe not.

* * *

He's finally begun to recover from the ache of loss that started the moment the war ended. It has not faded, and he thinks it will never fade, but he can come to terms with it now. Can come to terms with the fact that his family is dead and his friends are far behind him, left in Karakura as soon as the funerals were done. Chad, Inoue, Tatsuki—they had wanted to help, but none of them understood. They had not lost everything, including the power to protect.

Ichigo knows his family had gone to Soul Society. There's no question in it. He'll see them again someday, and so that loss isn't as striking as it may have otherwise been. But to no longer be able to protect the friends he still has—to be helpless and reliant on others for safety from the Hollows—that's agony.

He ends up in Tokyo, far from anyone who knows him. Far from any shinigami that might try to "help," even if he can't not see them if they don't use a _gigai_. He likes the anonymity of the city, the fact that everyone is a stranger. It comforts and gives him time to grieve in peace. That kind of thing is selfish, he knows, but he can't resist it. He lost all of his friends when he lost his powers, right on the heels of losing his family. Even though he knows they're still there, that they still exist—and Urahara even gives him reports, once in a while, when he drops by in his surprise, not-entirely-unwelcome random visits—missing them is like an empty, jagged hole in the center of his being, hot and sticky and heavy.

Ichigo truly had not thought to get through the war alive. Even now, it surprises him that he's breathing, that he's able to walk to the store to buy soy sauce and pretend that it's for Yuzu, and that if he waits long enough he'll have to go tell Karin to stop abusing her friends in the name of soccer and come home for dinner. Always, he had imagined some final battle between Aizen and himself, ending with both of them dead. No matter his training, no matter his power, he always expected the Lord of Hueco Mundo to have one last trick to pull. And he had probably had one, but the shinigami—and Ichigo and his friends, in particular—had had one of their own that Aizen had never expected.

A traitor.

Ichimaru Gin, the former captain of the Third—though now, Ichigo supposes, he's a captain again, being reinstated by Yama-_jii_ for his help. He's still under surveillance, and Ichigo suspects that Soi-Fong is probably viciously pleased, to have someone to watch so closely.

He doesn't know firsthand, though. With his powers gone, he only knows what news Urahara feels fit to pass on, and has to be content with that.

The store is within sight, and Ichigo is half relieved and half disappointed that it isn't the one in Karakura, that Oshima and his gang aren't waiting for him, ready to strike. For all that he hated the war, he misses fighting, misses the burn and pulse in his blood, the heady rush that comes with strength and a good fight and a powerful opponent. Despite how he had always wanted a normal life, he would not have surrendered the power he'd had for anything but the safety of all his friends. Ichigo clenches his hand absently, and even now it feels odd without Zangetsu there, the heavy hilt a soothing weight against his skin.

Odd, too—and weighing uncomfortably on him, constantly rubbing and pinching and nagging like a pair of badly fitting shoes—is the fact that he had saved all of his friends, but now half of the world is lost to him. He can't see the spirits anymore, can't feel the pulse and shudder of the reiatsu as the shinigami and Hollows break through the boundaries between the worlds. As he walks down the cracked and crumbling sidewalk, he can't sense the ghost of the old man who used to own the flower shop on the corner, who had died sitting peacefully outside his store. Ichigo guesses he's there, or a spirit like him is there, because spirits are _always_ there, but he doesn't _know_.

He had never, never thought he would miss it, but now he can't help but think that he misses it just as much as he does the shinigami.

And then brakes squeal, something releasing a metal-on-metal shriek, and Ichigo turns towards the noise automatically.

He dies before he can even see what it is that hits him.

* * *

Classes are simple enough, Ichigo is pleasantly surprised to find. _Zanjutsu_, _hoho_, _hakuda_, and _kido_ are not hard to master, especially with the training he received from Urahara and Yoruichi, and the foundation of control that Kukaku and Ganju gave him. The instructors are impressed with his grasp of their subjects, and his dedication to learning what he doesn't already know, and he's quickly placed in the most advanced classes. Even his worst subject, _kido_, is simply a matter of practice, refinement, and control. Many of the higher-level spells are easier for him than the simple ones, because of the amount of reiatsu he has, and he adjusts his fighting style accordingly. Other skills come more easily, most of them just the polishing and refining of abilities he already has, such as _hoho_ and its many variations of _shunpo_. It quickly becomes clear that his goal of graduating in one year is very close to becoming reality.

Because of his constant studying—for, in addition to the martial arts, students also learned history, politics, tactics, lore, and the administrative side of being in a division—Ichigo has little time for other students, and while he's polite enough, most of the others are unsure how to deal with this new genius, who seems poised to surpass both his own older brother and the prodigy Ichimaru. They tend to give him a wide berth, and only Eiji is willing to spend time with him—or rather, Eiji is the cheerful, energetic shadow that will never leave him alone.

They're friends as well as roommates, though, despite Ichigo's reluctance. Eiji is a lot like Keigo, but more of a smartass, and some of his exuberance—enough that Ichigo isn't constantly tempted to strangle him—is held in check by his Kuchiki blood. Around him, Ichigo can relax his guard and enjoy being at the Academy, joking and sparring and playing games for practice. They even adopt Byakuya and Yoruichi's old pastime of playing tag, stealing each other's hair ties and seeing who can outmaneuver the other while going at top speeds.

Such games are a novelty to Ichigo, to whom training has always been deadly serious, and it feels strangely freeing to simply relax and have fun, enjoying the uncomplicated pleasure of the wind in his hair as he tests his abilities against someone with equal skills and the same frame of mind.

It's during one such game that Ichigo comes face-to-face with the first real reminder of his former life. He and Eiji have been playing tag for several hours already, though neither have managed to get close enough to snatch a hair ribbon from the other. Ichigo is just rounding the edge of the courtyard, in close pursuit of his friend, when a flutter of white and black catches his eye. In the middle of his _shunpo_, he turns and flashes behind the corner of the building, acting purely on instinct. After a breathless moment, where his heart pounds fiercely in his chest—_Have they found out? Have they decided to come and drag me back to Soul Society?—_he steels himself and looks out.

Kuchiki Byakuya stands in the center of the courtyard, flanked by two of his lower-level seated officers. Eiji, positioned in front of him and wearing a look as though he'd been cornered in mid-_shunpo_, is in the process of stuttering out something that might possibly be a welcome. Ichigo rolls his eyes, then decides that he had better go and rescue his friend before the other boy makes even more of a fool out of himself. Using his fastest _shunpo_, he flashes out of hiding, changes direction, and appears behind Eiji, snatching his hair ribbon with quick fingers before he allows his gaze to flicker to the captain. Putting on a look of surprise, he steps back.

Eiji feels the rush of air behind him and the hair tumbling down around his shoulders. He spins, and something close to relief flickers through his eyes. "Oh, Kei, you'll have to excuse me for a moment," he says quickly. "We can finish later, after class."

Because he's watching, Ichigo sees how Byakuya's eyes widen when his appearance registers. It's a look he's gotten many times before, mainly from the instructors who still remember his "older brother." Despite the longer hair, he looks uncannily like Kaien. But he pulls his gaze away from the noble and offers Eiji his ribbon with an apologetic smile. "Here. Sorry about that. I didn't realize that you were with family."

"Who is your companion, Eiji?" Byakuya's sharp tone cuts off any response the younger noble might have offered.

With a wince, Eiji turns back to his cousin and bows. "Forgive me, Byakuya-_sama_. This is my friend—"

"Shiba Kei," Ichigo interjects, bowing quickly. "The youngest. Kukaku-nee-san had me adopted into the main family a few months ago. I'm honored to meet you, Captain Kuchiki_._"

He pointedly ignores the quiet gagging noises that Eiji is making.

Byakuya nods briefly, though his eyebrows lift ever so slightly. "I am astonished. A Shiba with manners—that is truly something to behold. Perhaps Eiji will learn something from you, Shiba-kun." A faintly amused gaze shifts to the younger Kuchiki, who straightens a touch guiltily.

Ichigo is speechless. He remembers Renji once saying that Byakuya actually had a sense of humor, but he had never seen proof of it before. But…he could swear that Byakuya's words just now were a joke, almost bordering on teasing.

The feel of amusement deepens, and Byakuya looks between the two students. His lips twitch ever so slightly at their expressions, and he inclines his head. "I find that I desire a cup of tea. Will you show me where I might find one?"

* * *

"And you, Shiba-kun? Are you in Eiji's year?"

Ichigo nods and sets down his teacup, thankfully cutting off a babbling Eiji mid-sentence. The only place for Byakuya to find an acceptable cup of tea is, of course, in Eiji's private stash, in their dorm room, and Ichigo doesn't know whether to relish this connection to his old life or fear for his sanity. "Yes, Captain Kuchiki," he says respectfully. "We both started this year, but I'm slated to graduate in the spring. The teachers are pleased with my progress."

Narrow eyebrows lift slightly. "Then you will beat your brother's record. That is well done for someone of your age."

"He's only missing Ichimaru-_taicho_'s record by a few weeks," Eiji puts in happily, obviously relieved that he's no longer expected to talk about himself—the cause of the former babbling, no doubt. "He probably would have beaten that, too, but he's not as good at _kido_."

"Thanks, Eiji," Ichigo mutters into his cup, shooting his friend a narrow look, then glancing back at the captain and assuming a properly chastised expression. "Sorry, Captain. I lack the finesse that Captain Ichimaru possesses, and my _kido_ is rather hit and miss."

That eyebrow is creeping up again, and Ichigo is horrified to find that he _likes_ the amusement in Byakuya's steel-grey eyes. "If you are graduating early, you no doubt have your pick of squads," is all the noble says, though. "Have you given a thought to which you will choose?"

Ichigo hesitates for a moment, and then reminds himself that he's Shiba Kei, not Kurosaki Ichigo, and he's _expected_ to ask his superiors when he has questions. He steels himself before asking, "Do you have any suggestions, sir? I don't know enough about the actual squads to be certain where I would be of the most use."

Instead of looking derisive and condescending, as Ichigo half expects, Byakuya actually looks thoughtful, turning his cup in his hands. "You are good at _hoho_?" he asks after a moment. At Ichigo's nod—and Eiji's enthusiastic confirmation—he offers, "The 9th is looking for strong officers at the moment, but I believe that Abarai-_taicho_ would overlook your abilities because you lack brashness."

Ichigo almost chokes at that, but manages to restrain himself in time.

Heedless, Byakuya continues, "The 3rd would be a good choice, as would the 13th, though with Ukitake-_taicho_ you would most likely be living in your brother's shadow. The 1st rarely takes new members, as does the 2nd, and you are not a scientist, which excludes the 12th." He pauses for a moment, as if considering, and then says, "Should you show enough leadership potential, I have no doubt that you will be offered command of the 5th Division, at least until they find an officer who can perform _bankai_. Hinamori-_fukutaicho_ is still unwell. And if they do not, I would be willing to accept you into the 6th, seeing as I have yet to find a reliable _fukutaicho_."

It takes a conscious effort for Ichigo to keep from gaping, dropping his cup, or blurting out his secret right there. _Kuchiki Byakuya_ wants _him_ as a lieutenant? But—

_The secret._ Something hard and suspiciously rocklike forms in the pit of Ichigo's stomach. What would Byakuya do if he ever found out who Ichigo actually was? Would he hate him? Despise him? Reveal him to the rest of the Seireitei? It's a risk that Ichigo doesn't think he's entirely willing to take, not when this entire new life is at stake.

But, despite that, Ichigo finds himself bowing to Byakuya, and murmuring, "I would mark your division as my first choice, Captain Kuchiki, if you do not object."

The faintest edge of a smile plays around the corners of Byakuya's mouth, and he nods, rising gracefully to his feet.

"That is acceptable, Shiba-_kun_. Would you escort me to the gates? I would like to know more about your abilities."

Something flutters uneasily in Ichigo's stomach at the words, but he shoves it aside and stands as well. "As you wish, Kuchiki-_taicho_-_dono_." He ignores the worried look that Eiji shoots him and bows, waiting for the captain to sweep out of the room before he follows.

They walk in silence, Ichigo keeping a respectful distance behind the older man, wondering what this can possibly be about. Then, as they reach a secluded stand of trees that academy students often used for secret meetings, Byakuya halts, turning to Ichigo with a look on his face that the former substitute has never seen before.

"You are to be acclaimed for your acting skills, Kurosaki Ichigo," he says, and the bottom drops out of Ichigo's world. He staggers back a step, eyes going wide, and his control on his reiatsu fluctuates wildly for a moment before he can recall how to breathe. Forcibly, he drags it back under control, clamps his limits down on it, and faces Byakuya with his head held high.

"Captain," he returns, and it's just barely civil. "I'd thank you not to use that name while in the Academy. I'm Shiba Kei right now."

Something akin to satisfaction settles deep in Byakuya's eyes, and his nearly nonexistent smile grows to become merely slight. He nods once, gracefully, and says, "As you wish, Shiba-_kun_. But I would have you know that you greatly alarmed your watchers, when you vanished from the world of the living and could not be found in Soul Society. I am… relieved that you are well."

Ichigo studies him with slightly narrowed eyes that widen suddenly as he gasps what Byakuya _isn't _saying. "You were…one of the watchers?"

The captain takes a smooth step forward, gaze flickering over Ichigo's black hair before returning to his face, and he nods gravely. "I was. You were not alone, Kurosaki Ichigo, nor are you alone now. Your family has come to dwell in the Seireitei." A faint grimace crosses his face. "It seems your father will soon be taking control of the 5th Division, seeing as he is a captain."

Barely containing a shudder, Ichigo pushes away thoughts of what old goat face will do to his poor officers, and grimaces. "Yet another reason to list the 6th as my first choice," he mutters, then realizes what he said and flicks a wary glance at the man before him. "I mean, if that's still acceptable, Captain Kuchiki. If not, I understand."

"It is more than acceptable." Byakuya gives another quiet smile and lets his hand drop to rest on Ichigo's shoulder. It's an entirely unfamiliar weight, strange and new, but just as entirely welcome. "I believe I would be…disappointed if you sought to enter another division."

* * *

Perhaps once, before the war ended in such personal tragedy for Ichigo, he would have never been able to walk past his old friends and pretend not to know them, to watch them grieve for him and pretend ignorance. But he spent years in the world of the living entirely cut off from everything, from everyone he'd known and the faint hope of seeing his family again. Without his powers, Ichigo became entirely helpless, entirely abandoned even if it never happened quite like that.

He got used to it, though. He adjusted. And, here and now, he's not so entirely dependent on those bonds. There are still friends, of course, and a new family, but Ichigo isn't pining for his old life any longer. Kukaku and Ganju and Eiji—and maybe, maybe, just _maybe _Byakuya can be counted among that small number as well—are enough to get by with, and he doesn't have to go looking for new ties.

That, at least, is blindingly obvious during the lieutenants' meeting. Shiba Kei stands apart from the others, all of them older and more experienced and entirely uncertain of what to do with this newcomer in their midst. Ichigo is used to being the odd one out, after years of school with Chad and Tatsuki—neither of them incredibly social—as his only friends. He ignores the table in the center, where those present have chosen to congregate, and instead heads to the window, hopping lightly onto the sill and turning out to survey the spread of the Seireitei around him.

"Rebellious," a dry voice comments from roughly six inches away. "Breaking the rules already, Lieutenant Shiba?"

Ichigo doesn't jump, even if he wants to, but turns his head to find Hisagi Shuuhei regarding him with cool grey eyes. The man is more or less a stranger—Ichigo's never really spoken to him before, though they've crossed paths. It is, perhaps, a blessing, because Ichigo has no memories to trip him up here, no old associations to subconsciously fall back on. There's only a vague sense of familiarity, a man he's seen before but nothing else—entirely expected of a newly appointed lieutenant.

He casts a glance at this man who lost his captain but persevered, who now serves under Ichigo's former friend and looks all the better for it, and offers a quiet smile—because Shiba Kei _can_, and no one thinks it odd, or the herald of some new doomsday—and a faint inclination of his head. "Sometimes breaking the rules is worth it," he says softly, turning his head back towards the view of the Seireitei, spread beneath them like some shining, silver-white dream. Ichigo is entirely aware that it's not a paradise; there are far too many problems and too much corruption and far, far too much humanity for it to ever be anything of the sort. But it is, nevertheless, a grand sight, and ever since his first view of it as an invader, the Seireitei has never failed to stir his heart.

It's in times like these that he remembers Aizen's words about being alone, about standing above everyone else, looking down from a height. He wonders, sometimes, what Aizen would have found if he'd simply stepped off his perch. Maybe it wouldn't have been enough to change his mind outright, but…but perhaps it would have given him pause. Even just a moment's worth.

Hisagi is watching him, Ichigo knows, and the gaze feels heavy and considering on his skin. There's a long, silent pause, and then Hisagi snorts softly and bats Ichigo's feet off the other end of the sill, hopping up to sit beside him with one knee pulled up. He, too, looks out over the Seireitei, and there's something both fond and wistful in his eyes.

"Yeah," he agrees, just as quietly. And then, more quietly still, "Quite a view."

Two entirely different conversations, but they both mean the same thing at heart. Ichigo feels his smile widening, just a touch, and he turns back to the other shinigami, offering a half-bow. "Lieutenant Shiba Kei, Sixth Division. Nice to meet you."

Hisagi smiles back, the reserved expression startlingly at odds with his punk-like appearance, and inclines his head. "Lieutenant Hisagi Shuuhei, Ninth. Glad to have you with us, Shiba."

It's then that the First Division lieutenant, Sasakibe Chojiro, calls the meeting to order, and Hisagi and Ichigo fall in with the others, but there's a certain sense of shared understanding between them, a whisper of empathy that was absent before, and Ichigo wonders at it, just a little. He hasn't ever really had that before, because he's always been just a little strange for the human world, a bit left of center in a place where everything else was perfectly aligned. And to have understanding come over something so _large_ is the most astounding thing of all.

Ichigo looks at the other faces around the table and does not have to wonder how many of them feel the same way. They are all members of the Gotei 13, all proven loyal through fire and forge and the crucible of battle, and that's enough.

That's more than enough.

* * *

**Supplementary rant:**

This morning, while I was minding my own business hunting plot bunnies, I got a rather nastily-worded PM from someone I'll leave anonymous, picking at the fact that I primarily write slash (they went looking for my "good" fics and couldn't find any). This individual informed me that if I made Ichigo gay, it would entirely ruin my story and they would stop reading.

To address what is, apparently, a BIG DEAL: First of all, I've got this weird little personality tick where, if someone tells me rudely to do something, my kneejerk reaction is to do the exact opposite. Please, if you've got a criticism to make, remember that I have a bit of a temper, and mind your tone accordingly. Secondly, deriding homosexuality to a married lesbian? Kinda dumb, _amigo_. Thirdly, in the heading under the "pairings" section, I clearly typed "none." Yeah, that generally means "gen"—in other words, no pairings.

Admittedly, _Range_ and _Laugh_ are slash, and this is a takeoff, but I'm the kind of writer who has a hard time balancing both romance and a solid plot. Previously, I was focusing on romance, but now I'm trying my hand at plot. Therefore, _Encore_ will be (as it says in the genre) a _friendship_ fic and nothing more. (Bring Your Own Subtext and all that, I'm cool with it. And if you're dying for a pairing, feel free to write a spinoff of your own. I'm not greedy with my plots.)


End file.
